


Play My Game

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Lemon, M/M, Mindfuck, POV Duo Maxwell, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Yaoi, by Blue Soaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 13:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by Blue Soaring--"Play a game with me, Duo." His voice was low. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. I know I quivered in his arms, I couldn't help myself. "My game . . . ."Right at that moment, I would have agreed to anything, and I mean ANYTHING.





	1. Game Start

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: For Dacia. I promised this to her a looooong time ago for the Boys Next Door contest. Also, it's a little high-techish. One of my friends was babbling on and on (and on and on and on) about a book she was reading where things were voice controlled. I 'borrowed' that idea, I'd give credit if I knew what book it was. The rest of the stuff is mine, though.
> 
> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The flickering lights cast shadows on the walls and the dancers as he watched the room move around him. His eyes trailed almost lazily over the throng, unimpressed with what the world had to offer him. Surely, there was something more. The bar was stagnant to him; the flow of life reduced to a sluggish crawl. Sighing, he rose, intent on leaving the people to their mindless existences. But a figure in the faceless mass caught his eye. He halted, hovering slightly above his chair, studying the person. The body he watched so intently moved throughout the crowd, with them, but not; seemingly separate from the people even while surrounded by them. He sank back into his chair for the moment, intrigued.  
  
Here was something more.  
  
+  
  
I leaned easily on the bar, with my back to it and facing the room. I scanned the crowd milling around inside the Black Sun - idiotic name for a bar - again as I waited for my drink. I watched everyone dance, enjoying the show. Some people just didn't have a clue. No, I'm not a cynical bastard, really. Some people honestly just didn't have a clue how to dance. I've seen men having seizures move with more rhythm. Think that was too harsh? That's funny. Almost as funny as you believing that I care what you think. My eyes settled on a particularly interesting couple. The man moved sinuously to the pounding beat, and the poor woman he was with looked like she was in the middle of her death throes.  
  
The bartender slammed my drink down on the bar, followed quickly by the dull slap of his hand. I pocketed the change when he moved and raised the glass to my lips, letting my gaze move from the dance floor to the bar. Someone was very busy staring at me, and he was making no effort of hiding it. In fact, it looked to me like he was waiting for me to notice. I looked him over quickly, noticing that he wore plain black boots, hard leather pants of the same shade, and a partly unbuttoned collared shirt. Oddly enough, it was sleeveless, showing off the dark, golden skin of his arms. I raised my eyebrow, throwing him a small smirk and mouthing "Yes?"  
  
In answer to my question, he let his eyes drop down and wander over my body, much more leisurely than I had. I was, if I do say so myself, dressed to kill. I had chosen black vinyl pants for tonight, worn low on my hips and tight across my ass and thighs. The material from my knees down was cut straight, not tapered to my legs in the close fitting style worn by some men. I wore a shirt of the same material and color, cut in a narrow, sharp V from the collar to the hem, which rode just above the waistband of the pants, leaving a band of pale skin showing around my waist and up the center of my chest. The contrast between the black clothing and my skin was startling, and I used it to my full advantage. Over this, I wore a long coat, also black, which fell to my heels. And no, I'm not that short. I had it custom made. You should have seen the look on the woman's face when I told her what I wanted. The coat was leather, but was very soft, not stiff. I moved easily in it, and it barely weighed anything because the leather was so thin. Thin enough, but crafted to resist any tearing. The inside was entirely lined with silk. It had cost a small fortune, but it was worth it.  
  
Worth it even more now, as I watched the man's eyes travel slowly upwards. His gaze was so intense I could feel it. A tongue peeked out from his mouth to quickly moisten his lips as his eyes met mine again. I felt my body heat rise in response to his eyes, and a slight quirk at the side of his mouth said he knew it. He spun around on the high stool, planting one foot firmly on the floor and left the other on the footrest of the stool. He crossed his arms over his chest. On anyone else it would look like a defensive gesture, on him it looked like an invitation. I was never one to turn down a good invitation.  
  
Pushing off the bar, I walked over to him. He watched me with those burning eyes of his, and I knew I was hard. Time to see if he knew, and if he was too. I stood between his open legs and leaned forward, putting one hand behind him on the counter top and pressing my knee against his groin. Definitely hard. My braid fell over my shoulder as I leaned in further, ghosting my lips along his jawbone up to his ear.  
  
"You were staring at me," I whispered, pleased when a small tremor ran through him when my breath touched his ear.  
  
"Hai . . . I was," he replied.  
  
The word startled me, and I drew back just enough to see his face more clearly in the fitful lighting. His features were finely chiseled, high cheekbones led to amazing, almost almond shaped eyes. His eyes still burned, and now I could see they were a rich cobalt blue. I let my eyes drop to his lips. They were full, and a little moist from his tongue. His lips parted when I pressed my knee against him a little harder, and I felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath. My mind registered somewhere along the way that his hair was dark, darker than my chestnut brown, and in a style that could be called messy, except it didn't look like an intentional style. It fell over his eyes in small chunks. I briefly toyed with the idea that it was meant to look natural, but he chose that moment to slide his hands into my coat and run them over my ass. Lost as I was in studying him, the feel of his hands on me surprised me, and I let out a quick breath of air.  
  
His lips curved in a seductive smile then, and he brought one hand up to trail his fingers lightly across the bared skin around my waist. When he reached my stomach, he let his hand dip between my legs and kneaded the hardness there. My eyes closed partially and I couldn't help but rock against his hand. I knew my breathing was coming in short pants now. I did, however, resist the urge to spread my legs wider. His other hand ran almost idly over the cleft of my ass. This man knew what he was doing, that was for sure. I had the fleeting thought that coming in my pants might not be a good idea, but that thought flew out of my mind when he let out a soft groan. I noticed then that my rocking motion had caused my leg to rub against his erection, torturing him as much as he was torturing me.  
  
"Are you gonna tell me your name," I asked, my voice heavy, "or can I make one up?" I punctuated my question with another small thrust of my hips.  
  
"Heero," he groaned, taking a deep breath. "My name is Heero," he said again in a voice only slightly more steady, rolling the 'r'.  
  
A Japanese name to go with the Asian looks. His accent sent little thrills down my spine. I instantly wondered what that accented voice would sound like screaming in passion, and begging me to touch him. Moistening my own lips with my tongue, I placed the tip of my finger on his lips. Again his tongue darted out, but this time it was to taste my fingertip. I watched the flash of pink recede back into his mouth. I ran my hands down his arms then, and pulled him to his feet. He stood barely an inch taller than me.  
  
"Come dance with me, Heero," I said, glancing over his body for a moment, just long enough to notice he was slender like me, although I could feel the muscles of his arms shifting under my hands. He wrapped his arm around my waist under my coat, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my pants. He made his way through the crowd, taking me with him.  
  
When we reached the dance floor, I turned around quickly, back on to him, and pressed the full length of my body against his. Heero growled low in his throat. He grabbed my hips as I began to rock against him to the beat of the music. I leaned back into him and moved my head to the side so I could watch his face. His eyes were heavy and clouded. I rested my hands over his for a moment before bringing one hand up to trail over the side of his neck. We fell into a rhythm easily. Not only did Heero know what he was doing, he could dance too. I wonder what else he did well? The thought led me down a very nice path, and I absently licked my lips.  
  
Heero was watching my mouth, and suddenly he spun me around and slammed me against the front of his body, still moving with the music. He reached under my coat again and ground his erection into mine. My eyes widened, then grew heavy again. I was lost in the music, the smell of his skin, and the feeling of his heat pressing against me. I automatically wrapped my arms around his neck when he crushed his mouth to mine. He growled again when I opened my lips and he dipped his tongue inside. I felt his tongue brush over mine, stroking it with his own. I moaned into his mouth and twined my tongue with his, tasting the inside of his mouth as he tasted mine. He nipped at my bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth. My brain was heady with heat and sensation, and our kiss broke. I looked at his eyes before he descended again, this time with frantic, open-mouthed kisses. I felt rather than saw him pull back; my eyes were closed and my lips still parted and moist. I fought to control my breathing.  
  
"And what . . ." he breathed into my ear, "do I call you?"  
  
My first thought was he could call me damn well anything he wanted. Foregoing that, I said, "Duo. Call me Duo."  
  
+  
  
"Good moooooooornig everybody! It's 5:45, and what a GLORIOUS summer morning we have out there! Traffic across the bridges is slow moving, seems like everyone wants to take it sloooow today. Right now, it's a nice 79 degrees, and we'll have highs today of a scorching 93! And now . . ."  
  
I groaned into my pillow, listening as the announcer rambled on about the weather for the next week. Someone should shoot him, it's unnatural to be that goddamn CHIPPER in the morning . . . .  
  
Last night came back to me in a rush. The club. Heero. I groaned again, remembering the sound of my name on his lips. Better yet, my lips on his. I grinned foolishly.  
  
More pieces of last night filtered back into my foggy brain. He had teased me relentlessly on the dance floor, and I almost regretted asking him to dance. Almost. I should have asked him to fuck me instead. I wasn't quite sure, but I probably DID ask him that last night, somewhere along the line. The bartender had made last call, Heero's hands were on me, pressing me against him, his voice husky in my ear . . . . I sat up in the bed quickly. A small shiver passed over me when I remembered what he said.  
  
_~ "Play a game with me, Duo." His voice was low. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. I know I quivered in his arms, I couldn't help myself. "My game . . . ."_

_Right at that moment, I would have agreed to anything, and I mean ANYTHING. Without really thinking, I turned my head and kissed him again, running my tongue along his lips. He moaned and opened his mouth, and I plunged my tongue inside. It was my way of agreeing to his request. ~_

With a start I realized I had my fingers pressed to my lips and was suffering from a major hard on. I threw back the covers and stood, stretching. "Radio off," I said, and the noise was obediently cut off. I loved modern technology. As I made my way into the bathroom that adjoined my bedroom, I let my thoughts wander. Heero had disappeared at last call, right after I kissed him. Did he know that I had agreed? I sighed, looking into the mirror and unwinding my braid. For some reason, I was sure he did. I ran a brush through my hair, and stepped into the shower, closing the opaque door behind me.  
  
"All jets, 82 degrees," I said, and the water streamed down. I stood there for a while, just letting the water flow over me. Finally, I roused myself and started the arduous task of washing my hair. I suppose that's what I get for being vain. And for having hair that fell well below my ass when it was unbraided. I grinned again, remembering the look on Heero's face when he had wrapped his long fingers around my braid, and starting stroking it in a delightfully suggestive manner. The thought didn't help my situation one bit. I was never going to get anything done if the mere thought of Heero left me like this. And thinking of thoughts of Heero . . . .  
  
The feeling of my hands, covered in soap, running over my body suddenly wasn't as innocent as merely washing. My left hand slid down, over my stomach and wrapped around my erection. A jolt of sheer pleasure coursed through me. I moved my hand slowly up the shaft to the sensitive head, rubbing my thumb over tip, and back down again. My other hand danced across my chest, toying with a nipple. I tightened my grip at the same time as I pinched my nipple, and the two sensations melded together. My mouth dropped open in a low moan. I clenched my eyes shut, moving my hand faster over the ache between my legs. My breath was coming in short pants now, the hot water sending tendrils of steam swirling around me. I felt my stomach tighten. I let my hand drop from my chest to brush over my hidden entrance. I shuddered and slipped one soapy finger just past the ring of muscle there. That sent me over the edge to orgasm. I pumped myself a few more times before wrapping my hand firmly around the base of my cock. I let my orgasm ride me, my mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.  
  
Minutes later I was still catching my breath, leaning against the shower wall. I shakily righted myself and quickly finished my shower. Stepping out of the stall, I grabbed a towel and made my way back into the bedroom to dress. The rest of the morning found me wondering if I would see Heero again. As for his game . . . I had a pretty good idea which game he had in mind.  
  
+  
  
Three days later I still hadn't heard from Heero. I was sitting in my office, watching my computer search through millions of files. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of me. I was searching for Heero. I had no idea what I would do if I found him, I hadn't bothered to think that far ahead. Step one was finding him, step two was figuring out what to do once I did.  
  
I snorted in frustration. I was still stuck on step one. The man was impossible to find. I had the fleeting thought that he had given me a false name, but I quickly banished that idea. Best not to start thinking like that until I exhausted all possibilities. The vidscreen to my left beeped at me then, drawing my attention away from my computer.  
  
"Audio/visual," I said absently, still watching the data flow across the computer screen. "Sico Inc., Lachine Towers division," I still hadn't bothered to look at the vid.  
  
"Miss me, Duo?" an accented voice asked.  
  
My head whipped around so fast I'm surprised I didn't crack my neck. The vidscreen was black. No picture. But there was not mistaking the deep resonance of Heero's voice. The game had begun.  
  
"How did you get this number?" I blurted. My private office number was unlisted, all calls were directed through the front desk. And I certainly didn't remember giving it to Heero.  
  
I heard a soft chuckle. The sound sent thrills through me again, even more intense than before. Oh, yes, I had missed him. I wasn't about to tell him that, though.  
  
"You're a very hard man to find, Mr. Maxwell," he said, amusement evident in his voice.  
  
"I try," I replied. If he wanted to banter, fine with me.  
  
"The game has already begun, Duo. But it is still early."  
  
Okay, he didn't want to banter. I thought about his statement for a moment, then realized it was true. I tapped my pen on top of the desk in annoyance. He hadn't had trouble finding me, he was making me wait. Another realization hit me then. The game had begun long before he had even asked me to play.  
  
A chime signaled the completion of my computer's search. I glanced over and felt a triumphant surge. One file was displayed matching the criteria I had entered. I quickly opened the file, and my feeling of success changed to nervous anticipation. I watched, eyes wide with disbelief as the words scrolled across the screen.  
  
Bad form, Duo.

If you play my game, you play by my rules.  
The game will go on as long as you dare to play.  
Meet me at the Pyro on Fifth, ten tonight.  
And remember: my rules.  
How far will you go?  
  
I stared at the screen, my mouth open in shock. "Wha . . .?" I said, turning to look at the useless vidscreen. A small icon blinking in the corner told me that Heero had cut the call. I mumbled "end call" under my breath, and the vid went completely blank. Then I flopped back into my chair, looking at the message on my computer again.  
  
The Pyro was a notorious private club on Fifth Street, Downtown. I had only ever seen the blank face of the building. I'd heard even less. Apparently the people who got in didn't bother telling the rest of us about it. Running everything through my head that I knew about the club, I debated what clothes would be appropriate.  
  
I didn't even consider the idea of not going. Refuse the invitation to go to a private club with an amazingly sexy stranger who has the ability to track me down while I find out nothing about him? Fuck no. Heero knew how to play the game much too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue: *grin*  
> Duo: *gape*  
> Quatre: *wriggling eyebrows at Duo*  
> Wufei: Well . . . .  
> Blue: Yes?  
> Trowa: *cough*  
> Heero: Who is this for?  
> Blue: Dacia.  
> Duo: *grins slowly*  
> Blue: *snicker* I'm gonna to go work on Demons, now.


	2. Breathe and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Blue Soaring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Quarter to ten that night I pulled up in front of the Pyro. I had finally settled on a pair of form-fitting black leather pants, low riding, and a tight red tank. When I moved it exposed only a bit of my stomach, and it was cut in a low V, of course. I had rebraided my hair and topped the look off with a black choker and my favorite boots. I decided to leave my coat at home. If I had it my way, I wanted as little material between my body and Heero's as possible.  
  
I crawled out of the Maserati, glancing at the ID that the valet held out. Satisfied, I nodded. The valet was a slight, very luminous looking man. Don't laugh. He WAS luminous. His blond hair glowed in the lights, and his large aqua eyes sparkled. His skin itself seemed to glow, it was that pale. He didn't hand me a claim token, or even ask for a name before he engaged the vehicle and, throwing me a smile, drove away. I chalked it up to the private status of the Pyro. I climbed the stairs, trying to contain my eagerness. The man at the door looked me over slowly, his deep green eyes partially concealed by a fall of vibrant brown hair. I shifted a little, not quite posing for him but close to it. He smiled appreciatively as he nodded, giving me permission to enter. I walked up to the blackened doors and paused before entering. Turning to him, I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his briefly. I pulled back and winked; then quite deliberately licked my lips. I watched as his eyes clouded over a little. Laughing softly to myself, I walked into the entrance hall of the club, barely noticing when the doors slid quietly shut behind me.  
  
I needed that. The little encounter at the door helped me regain some of my composure and confidence. Perhaps Heero played the game too well, I was never put off balance like this. Calm for the moment, I ventured further into the building. And tried not to gape.  
  
Two bars lined the first floor walls. Pedestal tables with stools were scattered around, and the floor was covered in liquid crystal tile that swirled continuously with the press of human feet. The dance floor was set in the center of the spacious main floor, obstructed by the bodies of the clubbers. My eyes fell on a stairway, and they followed it up. The second and third floors were open balconies, each with its own bar. The second floor was dominated by larger tables for bigger groups, while the third floor was covered by what looked to be hundreds of pillows, all arranged into comfortable places to recline. People were everywhere. My mind balked at the sheer number of them in this single club.  
  
A small woman approached me while I was busy gawking. I gave her a quick look which told me she was attractive enough. Slender with small blue eyes and startling dark red hair. And dressed similar to the two men outside. She was smiling at me, and I managed to tear my eyes away from the room to return it.  
  
"And your name would be?" she asked. Ah, she worked here. Looked like a nice job.  
  
"Maxwell. Duo Maxwell." I turned up the wattage on my smile just a bit.  
  
Her eyes glowed. "If you'll follow me, please . . ." she said, turning away and heading for the stairs.  
  
I mentally shrugged my shoulders and followed her. When in Rome . . . .  
  
She led me to the third floor, and on the way up I noticed that there was another stairwell leading to a fourth. The top floor wasn't a balcony, though, and I had no idea what it looked like. At the top of the stairs, the woman motioned towards the back wall. "Your party is waiting for you there," she said simply, walking back down the stairs.  
  
My party? Odd, I didn't think Heero would bring anyone else. I made my way to the back, noticing with an amused chuckle that the numerous cushions scattered about hid low tables from anyone on the first or second floors. I caught sight of Heero, resting on a mound of pillows, at the back corner. I slowed my walk a little and added a slight sway to my hips. And then I drank in the sight of him.  
  
Heero was partly lying on his side, leaning against one of the larger pillows. His head was tilted to the side, supported by his arm. One leather encased leg lay flat against the soft floor; the other was raised, bent at the knee. One word instantly came to my mind. Delicious. Then he looked up at me.  
  
I sucked in a sharp breath. My pants had gone instantly tight when he let the full force of his gaze strike me. He had smudged kohl around his eyes, highlighting them. His lips were glossy, begging to be kissed. I let my heated gaze run over him. The black leather pants were partly covered by thigh high black boots, which had been rolled down to just below the knee. He wore a deep blue shirt that served to call further attention to his eyes. The shirt was loose, the top few buttons left undone, and he had rolled the sleeves up to the middle of his forearm. A glint of silver at his neck turned out to be a chain sporting a single charm: an angel's wing.  
  
I watched him smile at me, and it wasn't just a friendly look. It was intensely sexual. I felt like he was touching me with his eyes, the force of it was so great. I closed the distance between us and stood above him, looking down. Don't ask me how I managed to not come in my pants, because I wouldn't be able to tell you.  
  
"Hello again, Duo," he said softly. His voice practically dripped sex.  
  
A quick flick of my eyes told me that there were pillows arranged beside him. I assumed that I was to sit there. I moved around the table, and settled myself back against the pillows. He shifted a little, handing me a drink. Hiding my surprise, I held it negligently in one hand.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at me. "I chose the wrong drink?" He didn't sound like he believed his words. Then his mouth curved up into a decidedly decadent smile. He leaned forward and took the drink away from me, dipping his finger into the glass and bringing it to his lips. His tongue darted out and licked both sides of his finger; then he tilted his head and took the tip into his mouth. I watched his finger slide past his lips, and I took an involuntary sharp breath of air.  
  
He was still looking at me as he drew the tip of his finger out of his mouth and dipped it in the drink again. "It's safe to drink," he whispered, leaning closer to me and placing his wet finger over my lips. Letting my eyes close partly, I let my tongue snake out and taste the tip tentatively. When his eyes drooped, half closed, I opened my mouth and drew his finger inside, lapping at it with my tongue. I dipped my head, running my hands up his arm to grasp lightly at his wrist. Then I pulled back, nipping the tip of his finger with my teeth.  
  
I heard a shaky intake of breath. Opening my eyes, I saw him draw his hand away and run his finger over his lips. He let out a low groan, licking both the tip of his finger and his lips again. I sat in stunned silence, amazed at the effect this man had on me. Decadent was the perfect way to describe how I felt right then.  
  
When I could finally move again, I had an idea. I rose to my knees, moving closer to Heero. He watched me the same way a starving man would look at a banquet: hungry . . . and greedy. I straddled his thighs, then crawled up a little further, settling just above his groin. I took my glass from his hand, this time dipping my finger inside and licking away the liquid.  
  
"Tell me, Heero," I said, trailing my finger over the bared skin of his chest. The skin quivered slightly under my hand. I wanted to see more of him; the tiny bit of flesh shown by the few loosened buttons suddenly wasn't even close to being enough. "If it's your game," I continued, "what are the rules?"  
  
His chest was rising faster now as I continued to undo the rest of his buttons one-handed. He watched my hand intently, shifting slightly under me. I felt the burning hardness of his cock press against my ass. I bit back a moan and pushed the material of his shirt away from his chest. I let my eyes roam over the hard planes, ghosting my hand across his nipples. He sucked in a deep breath again as they hardened to peaks. I smiled down at him and dipped my finger into the drink again, this time letting the alcohol drip onto his chest. The muscles jumped from the shock of cold liquid against hot skin.  
  
"The rules, Heero," I repeated, tracing little wet circles around one of his nipples. "What are they?"  
  
He shifted under me again, pressing his covered erection more insistently against the cleft of my ass. I let out a long moan of pleasure, and he moved his hips again. "Two rules," he said finally, still moving his hips in small thrusts.  
  
I leaned down over him, moving my hips back to settle more firmly over his.   
  
"Mmmhmm . . .?" I let a tiny puff of air strike the wetness I had spread over his chest, and the muscles jumped again when he groaned.  
  
"All pleasure," he growled out when I closed my mouth over his nipple, laving it with my tongue and rolling in around in my teeth. I pulled back, drawing a circle around the dusky skin with my tongue and said, "And?" before closing my lips over it again.  
  
His arms came around me, grasping my hips firmly and pressing our throbbing erections harder together. I groaned around the flesh in my mouth. His thrusts became even more insistent as I moved further up, nipping on the tender skin at the junction of his neck and collarbone. I pushed my hips against his, rocking them in small circles.  
  
Abruptly, the increasing tempo of his thrusts slowed until they were maddeningly shallow. My eyes flashed in anger. "What are you doing?" I hissed from between clenched teeth.  
  
He looked at me, an evil glint to his eyes. "You didn't finish your drink."  
  
I stared at him, then felt an evil grin slide onto my face. I tipped the glass a little, sending droplets of the liquid splashing against his skin. His fingers tightened their grip on my hips, but his kept his movements muted.  
  
"This drink?" I asked. I trailed my finger through it, then bent my head low over him. I licked a path up his chest, lapping up the drink that ran in tiny rivulets down the hard planes and valleys. Heero let out a long, low growl as my tongue traveled over him.  
  
"Drink it," he said again, pushing his hips against mine.  
  
I threw back my head and arched my back, my mouth open as I gasped for air. He was too damn GOOD at that; each time he moved my nerves exploded with pleasure. I eyed the drink in my hand. There was still quite a bit left.   
  
It was stupid, reckless and definitely NOT safe, but I did it anyway. I drank the entire thing. And he watched me, eyes burning with lust. One of his hands came around and began stroking my ass, pressing on my entrance every few strokes. He started rocking his hips again. The effect was mind blowing. I felt my cock twitch in response to his every move. Dimly, I remembered I had asked him a question, one that he hadn't yet answered.  
  
I brought my hands up on either side of his head to brace myself as I lifted my body, shifting around. I rocked my hips in time with his, quickly losing whatever shred of control I had left. My face was barely inches away from his.  
  
"What's . . ." I panted, ". . . the second rule?"  
  
Heero ground his cock into me, and I spread my legs wider. My mouth was open again, and a steady stream of pants and moans reached my ears. Most of them were mine. My focus narrowed to the hot friction of his erection stroking mine. All I could do was feel. I felt my muscles tense and I swear my vision was blacking out around the edges, so intense was the pleasure he sent coursing through me.  
  
"Heero . . ." I groaned. "You're going . . . to make me . . . make me . . ." I was so close, I could feel it coil in my stomach, just waiting to be released.  
  
"All pleasure . . ." he groaned, grinding against me harder.  
  
". . . make me come!" I cried at last, my voice lost in the heavy pounding of the club's music.  
  
His hands griped the cheeks of my ass, bruising in their force. "All pleasure . . . my way!" he growled finally, his blue eyes burning into mine as he thrust up against me again. I heard him dimly through the haze in my brain, and I threw my head back again when I felt my orgasm rip through me. Wave after wave of pure pleasure crashed over me. I kept moving my hips in small circles against him, trying to make it last longer. Finally I collapsed on top of him, gasping for breath. I dully recognized the fact that I had just come in my pants, but my last thought before I passed out was fuck it, it was worth it.  
  
+  
  
"Mr. Maxwell, you're home," a voice I didn't recognize said softly.  
  
". . . huh?" I said intelligently. In my defense, I WAS just waking up. I opened my eyes to see the blonde valet touching my shoulder, leaning across the center console of my Maserati.  
  
"I said you're home, Mr. Maxwell."  
  
Looking around further revealed that we were indeed parked in my garage. I struggled to right myself, and my skin cringed away from a wetness in my pants. I quickly looked down. Thankfully, nothing showed through the leather. It'd be a bitch to clean, but I didn't think I'd complain. Too much.  
  
Finally my brain fully grasped the situation. The console said it was only quarter to twelve. I looked questioningly at the blonde.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Maxwell, it's part of the service. Trowa followed me in another car."  
  
"Good, I was wondering how to get you back . . ."  
  
The blonde got out of the car, securing the controls. Then he walked around to the passenger side and opened my door. "Would you like a hand getting inside, sir?" he asked.  
  
I managed to climb out of the car and stood holding onto the door. "No, no, thank you," I replied, "I'm fine."  
  
The valet smiled again. He was a few inches shorter than me, and I couldn't help but think he was quite attractive. It was the aura of innocence that surrounded him, I think.  
  
"Alright then, Mr. Maxwell,” he said with a smile. "I hope you enjoyed your time at Pyro, and we all look forward to seeing you in action again." He turned away then, and walked to a black car waiting on the curb. He waved before opening the door and climbing in. When the light flicked on, I noticed that the driver was the man from the door. He winked at me once, then put the car in gear and drove away.  
  
I was gaping. Not so innocent after all, was he? In more ways than one. I snapped my jaw shut and closed the door of the car, making my way to the entrance of my house. The door slid open after a few seconds. Somehow, I made my way up the stairs to the bathroom, leaving a nice trail of clothing behind me. The pants were in a mess anyway, it didn't matter if I cleaned them now or later. At least, that's what I told myself.  
  
Now that I was awake, my brain was working at a fabulous rate. One: barely two hours had passed. Two: I had passed out. I don't think it was because of the drink either, although that was always an option. Three: Heero had sent me straight home. At least, it was probably Heero. That was the part that made me doubt my loss of consciousness was caused by the drink. Why drug me if you're just going to send me home right away? Then again, it did end the entire day nicely. Nice and neat, really.  
  
I showered quickly, then went back to collect my clothes. When I picked up my slightly messy pants, something dropped out of the pocket. Picking it up, I realized it was a holosphere. Without a second thought, I sprinted off to my home office, sliding the sphere into the projection slot of my computer.  
  
Seconds later, Heero appeared in the middle of the room. Or, more precisely, his image did. A very delicious image too, if I may say so. He was wearing the clothes he wore to Pyro, so I assumed he created the disk just before meeting me there.  
  
"The game goes on, Duo," Heero's image spoke, turning to face me. Ooooh, nice touch. Orientation programming. Heero was good. Even as a hologram, he was gorgeous. I sat back in the chair, listening to the recording.  
  
"You know the rules now." Hmm, that was interesting. How did he know I'd ask about the rules? Either he had excellent foresight, or he was planning on working it into the conversation. Well, what little conversation we did have, anyway.  
  
"All pleasure. My way," the image continued. I felt a twinge of excitement at the way Heero's hologram said 'my'. "I will contact you again. If you think you can handle playing my game. Remember, Duo. How far will you go?"  
  
The image disappeared from the center of the room, with Heero's final words echoing in my mind. Holy fuck. Heero was good at this. I took the holosphere out of the compartment, holding it in my hand. How far will I go? I tossed the sphere in the air and deftly caught it. Wrong question, Heero.  
  
I wandered back to my room, crawling under the sheets. How long would I have to wait until Heero contacted me again? I knew the waiting was part of the game. And the anticipation only made it better.  
  
+  
  
The next day was one of my days off. I woke up around ten, grabbing a cup of coffee and a bagel for breakfast. No, I am NOT a morning person. I eventually got around to cleaning up my leather pants. I made a little mental note to myself to never do that again. And if I ever got into that situation again, well, I'd be taking off my pants. Problem solved. I spent the rest of the day mulling over work and preparing several client folders, but my mind wasn't on my task. No, I was thinking about Heero. The man certainly knew how to get under your skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duo: Okay, bravo. Very nice. Now, go write more.  
> Blue: He's demanding, isn't he?  
> Heero: Hai.  
> Blue: Don't you find that a little annoying?  
> Heero: Hn. Usually.  
> Wufei: Often.  
> Trowa: We ignore him.  
> Quatre: He's . . . well . . .not all the time.  
> Duo: Hey! I'm right here!  
> Blue: Why, so you are . . . look at that.


	3. Statues and Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Blue Soaring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

Four days had passed by now. I had just gotten home from the office when the call came through on the vidscreen. Thinking it was Heero, I answered it a bit too hastily. Gotta do something about that, Heero might start thinking he was getting to me. Yeah, he WAS getting to me, but he's not supposed to know that. Part of the game.  
  
When Hilde's face appeared on the vid, I was a little disappointed. Then I remembered what I had asked her to do for me. Hilde had certain resources and connections that I didn't; i.e. I asked her to track something down about Heero.  
  
I shot her my best grin. "Hey, Hil! How's life?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Knock it off, Duo. You don't have to suck up anymore, remember? I already agreed to hunt down some info for you."  
  
I laughed. Hilde always was one to get to the point. "And, any luck?"  
  
A look of annoyance crossed her features. "Only if you call this 'luck'," she said sourly, moving away from the vid so I could see her computer screen. The words 'my way' were scrolling across it continually.  
  
"Oooh . . ." I let out an explosive breath of air. "Guess not, huh?"  
  
She shook her head. "Whoever Heero is, he's good at what he does. There's not a trace of him anywhere." Hilde's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so interested in him, anyway?"  
  
I chuckled under my breath. "It's all part of a game, Hil."  
  
Looking at me funny, she snorted. "I DON'T want to know, Duo. Forget I asked. I'll let you know if I find anything, but it doesn't look like I will."  
  
"Okay, thanks Hil. Keep in touch, kay?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah . . ." she replied, "later, Duo. End call."  
  
The screen blinked and went black. Well, well. Just as I turned to walk away from the vid, another call came though. I answered it automatically.  
  
"Duo."  
  
Naturally, this time it was Heero, and he had the visual active. I stared at him for a moment, trying to gather my scattered wits. He really had me off balance.  
  
"Follow the rules, Duo. We do this my way," he said quietly.  
  
I opened and closed my mouth, doing a fair impression of a guppy. Finally, I collected myself. He REALLY had me off balance. "You took too long," I said simply.  
  
He smiled then, and it was not a comforting smile. Not in the very least. "Now you have to wait longer."  
  
I could play that way too. "But can you wait, Heero?" A flicker of something in his eyes then. Ahh, gotcha.  
  
"Maybe. Maybe not. You'll just have to wait to find out." He laughed then, a very seductive sound, and the screen went blank again.  
  
"Damn . . ." I muttered to myself. So much for that small victory. He had me right back to where I was before. Pretty soon, I'd be going crazy. He was driving me crazy. And I loved it.  
  
+  
  
Three days and counting since had Hilde called. And no word from Heero. Irrationally, I had begun to think that he'd wait forever before he acted. I finally came to terms with the idea that he had me, and probably had me right where he wanted me to be. I knew where I wanted him to be: right on top of me. I had a feeling that he wouldn't object to that. But how fucking long was he going to make me wait!? I briefly considered trying a search for him again, but after the last disastrous results, I abandoned that idea. If the sadistic bastard caught me at that again . . . well, lets just say that I didn't doubt for a moment he'd enjoy making me sweat even longer.  
  
It didn't help that underneath my frustration, there was a feeling of contained eagerness. Anticipation. I replayed the events at the Black Sun bar that first night, and then the encounter at the Pyro over and over again in my mind. That didn't help to calm me down one ounce.  
  
At the moment, I was pacing my living room floor. I'd put all that excess energy to good use; my portfolio was complete a week in advance and I'd attacked – with a vengeance - the tiny home gym I had put together upstairs. But, here I was, pacing. Waiting. Dammit, if he didn't contact me soon, or do SOMETHING, I was going to lose whatever was left of my mind. Dimly, the sound of a steady beeping intruded on my inner ranting. It took a second for it to register on my brain that it was the vidscreen. Amazingly enough, I resisted the urge to tear down the hallway and answer it. Once I had myself under some measure of control, and had what I hoped was a casual expression on my face, I answered the call.  
  
Heero's face appeared on the screen. To my credit, I didn't scream for joy. I sat there, smiling slightly, and said, "Hello, Heero. I wasn't expecting you." Amazingly enough, my voice came out steady.  
  
"No?" Heero said, arching an eyebrow quizzically.  
  
I kept my gaze steady, tapping one finger against my smiling lips. "No."  
  
He laughed then. It traveled over my skin and touched me like a simple laugh was never meant to. It raised goosebumps on my arms. "Eleven o'clock, Duo. Be ready."  
  
I let my confusion show on my face. "For?" I prompted.  
  
His eyes were sparkling with laughter and something darker. "See you at eleven," he whispered, ending the call.  
  
I sat back, staring at the blank screen. What did he have planned now? I glanced up at the clock. Twenty to ten. I had about an hour and a half to get ready. The nervous anticipation I was feeling made my stomach twist. I made my way upstairs to dress. For what, I didn't know. But I sure as hell wanted to find out.  
  
An hour or so later, I was critically assessing my appearance in the mirror. I had decided to rebraid my hair after I had dried it. I had no idea what Heero was up to, so braiding it had seemed for the best. Besides, I could always undo it later. I lined my eyes in a dark chocolate color, using eyeshadow instead of pencil. It was a trick I picked up from Hilde somewhere along the way. Shadow was a little harder to work with, but it produced a more dramatic effect; darker near the outside corner of my eyes. The only other makeup I used was a touch of flavored lip gloss. I didn't need strawberry flavor, but we all have our little quirks.  
  
My outfit was taking the longest. Black is by far my best color, but I was torn between looking my usual best and wearing something different. In the end, I compromised. I picked out black straight-legged pants, made out of some unpronounceable material that shimmered almost silver when I walked. Surprisingly, they were comfortable and very soft. I ran my hands over my ass as I turned in the mirror, smoothing the cloth. The pants molded to my hips, and were cut lower in front, forming a blunted 'V'. They also dipped down far past my bellybutton, the edges of the material following the line of my hipbones. Ties crisscrossed over the skin left exposed by the pants. All in all, not bad.  
  
A simple, somewhat tight, red tee under my favorite leather coat finished the look. I was tempted to wear more black, but red highlights my hair well. That, and the fact that I didn't want to overwhelm those wonderful attention-grabbing pants of mine. The tee was sleeveless and short, with buttons down the front. I left a few of the top buttons undone, exposing my collarbone, then stepped back for another look. Perfect.  
  
I made my way downstairs. After slipping into my usual black boots, I tucked my wallet into my coat pocket. I looked one last time in the hall mirror before I noticed the headlights of a car pull up and stop just outside my house. The nervousness that had ruled my stomach for the past hour threatened to rise up again, but I managed to get myself under control by the time I was walking out the front door.  
  
Well, holy shit. A black, small model limo was parked outside my house. Beside the driver's door stood a slim, black haired man. As I walked closer, I could see he was Asian, dressed in loose, white linen pants and an oriental style shirt of the same color that reached to the tops of his thighs. Three buttons were placed off center on his chest, fastening the shirt. The collar was high, also fastened with a smaller button. The suit was trimmed in gold, with a stylized red Chinese dragon covering the front and most of the back of the shirt. And no, I didn't whistle . . . not loud enough so he could hear me, anyway.  
  
When I was about two feet away from him, he smiled at me, inclining his head slightly. "Ni hao(1), Mr. Maxwell," he said, the words flowing off his tongue in a lilting rhythm. When he looked up, he fixed his penetrating, ebony-eyed gaze on mine. How many sexy men had I run into since I met Heero? Jesus . . . I was making a habit out of it. Good habit. "Mr. Yuy requested that I escort you to him. If it pleases you . . . ." he said, sweeping one arm out and leading me towards the back door of the limo. He opened it, motioning me inside. I hesitated a moment, then crawled right in. Damn right it pleased me.  
  
The man closed the door behind me, and I glanced around. A bottle of wine was chilling in a stand next to me, with a crystal goblet and a pure white napkin placed beside it. I felt the limo pull smoothly out into the road.  
  
"We will arrive in approximately fifteen minutes, Mr. Maxwell," the Chinese man said, his voice coming from a small speaker just behind the car's door. "Please enjoy the refreshments. If there is anything you need, simply press the button beside the speaker and I will be able to hear you. I will be happy to assist you in any way."  
  
I looked down, seeing the small button he was referring to. I pressed the button and said, "Thank you, everything is fine," as calmly as I could, given the circumstances.  
  
"My pleasure, Mr. Maxwell," came the reply.  
  
I scooted away from the door, sizing up the bottle of wine. And I couldn't come up with a good reason to not 'enjoy the refreshments,' since Heero had gone to the trouble of supplying them. I poured myself a glass of the cool, red liquid and took and experimental sip. Very good. I sat back, savoring the sharp taste of the wine, and tried to gather my thoughts.  
  
Heero had me unbalanced the entire time. No, not the entire time. Our first meeting, that night in the bar, I was in control of him then. Maybe it was time we went back to that little arrangement. I knew how I affected him, how he responded to my body. I think it was time I reminded him of just how I could affect him.  
  
A short time later the limo slowed down, then stopped completely. The door opened and the driver said, "We're here, Mr. Maxwell."  
  
I stepped out of the limo and tried not to gawk. It wasn't that that house was huge or imposing, it was just that damn nice to look at. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a forest of trees hiding the house from the road.  
  
"Well," I said, turning back to the house. I looked at the driver, throwing him a smile. "Thanks for the ride." I handed him the wine glass that, for some odd reason, I was still holding.  
  
He accepted it, inclining his head again in acknowledgement of my thanks. "Mr. Yuy instructed me to inform you that he will meet you shortly. Please wait for him inside, in the first room at the top of the main staircase."  
  
"Ahh . . . thank you. Again."  
  
He nodded again, turning and making his way back to the driver's door. I watched him for a few moments, then turned back to the house. With a mental shrug, I climbed the stairs, glancing at the statues that stood at the top. Odd. Both were beautiful, life size, and male, but they weren't a matched set. The left was an angel, with doubled wings so well carved it looked like they would be soft to touch. The right was similar, but the wings were like a bats. I looked closer and saw that tiny fangs were carved in the mouth of the statue. Curious, I looked back at the angel. It also had fangs. I stepped back with a start. That was just a little weird, even for me.  
  
I heard the sound of the limo pull away. The only thing for me to do now was to go inside. I walked between the fanged statues and through the doors when they swung open, my coat flowing out behind me in a sudden breath of wind.  
  
And I was right back to gawking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue: Ahem. And that '1' would be one of the western spellings for 'hello' in Mandarin Chinese.  
> Duo: Forget that! They already know that. Stop wasting time here and go write the next part!  
> Blue: Yikes. Calm down. Don't get your underwear in a twist.  
> Heero: Impossible.  
> Blue: Say what? Are you gonna go off on one of those 'its physically impossible for Duo's - '  
> Heero: He's not wearing underwear.  
> Blue: *gaping* Oh. *slowly grins at Duo*  
> Quatre: Really? I think Duo should prove it.  
> Duo: *laughing* Strip show'll cost ya, Quat.  
> Trowa: *digging around in pockets* How much?  
> Wufei: I've got some change . . . .  
> Heero: Hn. *surreptitiously checking pockets for cash*


	4. End Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> by Blue Soaring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).

The inside of the house was one giant contrast. Pristine marble floors were covered in black rugs with patterns running through them in different shades of gray. Black veins ran through the marble. The walls were sheathed in some sort of textured granite; a mixture of white, gray and black. I looked up, catching sight of the staircase that I assumed had to be the one that the limousine driver had been referring to. More stone. Did Heero suck every stone quarry in the world dry to build this house or what? Walking over to the stairs, I ran my fingers lightly over the cool surface.   
  
Surprisingly soft. Probably sandstone, from the look and feel of it. I turned around just in time to see the great doors swing silently closed behind me. Without the light from the outside lamps, the interior of the house grew darker. The inside was illuminated by carefully placed lighting, hidden in the ceiling and walls. I looked at the closed doors, listening to my heart beat. Then I turned back around and climbed the staircase, my footsteps muffled on the carpeting that ran up the center of the stairs. At the top I halted, letting my hand linger on the banister. The first room I saw was to my left, the door slightly ajar. My stomach was doing flip-flops. I took a few seconds to slow my breathing. My being as giddy as a schoolgirl was not in the plan. I shook my head, causing my braid to swing. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door, glancing around the room.  
  
The empty room. Heero wasn't there. I quelled the twinge of disappointment and walked fully into the room, sizing it up. It was lit in much the same way as the rest of the house that I had seen; the lights, hidden from view, giving off a muted golden glow. The strict black, white, gray scheme of the main entrance changed here. The floor was carpeted completely in white; the walls sheathed in more black-veined marble. The first part of the room held a small table, more wine and a covered tray resting on it. Two large, overstuffed, rich blue chairs were set beside it. Further back, there was a raised dais, with the biggest damn bed I'd ever seen on it. The coverlet was the same blue as the chairs. White and blue cushions were strewn across the bed, giving it an almost haphazard look. The head of the bed was tucked in a little alcove, framed by curtains of the same hue. Matching curtains also framed a large window seat.  
  
Tearing my eyes from the bed, and the ideas that it made spring to my mind, I curled up in one of the chairs, tucking my legs beneath me. I poured another glass of wine; red again, and sat, waiting and sipping. And trying to get my pulse to slow down to at least a somewhat reasonable rate. I wasn't having much luck with that, though.  
  
I brought the glass to my lips again. And then I felt it. Someone's eyes on me. I looked back to the door, and Heero stood there, hand on the casing. Watching me. His eyes burned cobalt blue, deep enough to drown in. I sensed my little ideas slipping away alarmingly fast. I was eager for his touch again. I wanted to feel his body pressing against mine. I swallowed the wine quickly. It stung my throat, but I hardly noticed. He was walking towards me. No, stalking. He stalked across the floor, his bare feet making no sound. The white carpet made his skin seem darker. I raked my eyes over him, savoring every detail.  
  
Lucky me, he wore very little in the way of clothing. White, low cut pants molded to his body, making me notice again the rich color of his skin. The pants had slits down the entire outside length of each leg, fastened at regular intervals with silver cord. Another silver cord looped around his waist, the ends dangling just past his hips. He wore only that same silver angel's wing at this throat; no shirt of any kind. Thank you, the view was quite pleasant. Finely muscled arms, a well defined chest . . . I wonder if I'm drooling all over my shirt. The dim lighting made him almost glow. It played across his chest and abdomen, calling my eyes to stop and stare. Which I promptly did.  
  
And then he was in front of me, staring down with those burning blue eyes. I watched his face, taking another slow drink. Licking the corner of my mouth, I rested the glass on my leg, holding it loosely in one hand. I rested my chin in the other, bracing my elbow on the arm of the chair.  
  
"Care for a drink, Heero?" I asked, letting my voice come out low. It was my turn now. To make him squirm.  
  
A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. He ignored my question, instead leaning over me and bracing his hands on the chair's arms. The movement brought his eyes level with mine, and my breath caught in my throat. Those eyes held so many dark promises. Wonder if Heero made good on the promises his eyes made? His scent surrounded me; spicy and hot. His skin tasted like that, and I lost interest in the wine. I wanted to taste Heero.  
  
"You taste better than wine," Heero said, echoing my thoughts; his breath whispering past my face.  
  
I set the mostly empty glass on the table. I kept his eyes on mine as I brought my hand up and ran it down the center of his chest, teasingly slow. I ended with my finger resting lightly at the waistband, running back and forth over his skin where he ended and the pants began. I let my head fall back, leaning on the chair and letting my eyes grow heavy.  
  
"Then, Heero," I almost purred, "would you care for a taste?"  
  
He growled deep in his throat. I shivered at the sound. His hand cupped the back of my head, and he shifted forward, sliding one leg up to kneel partly on the chair with me. I unwound my legs, making room. His lips found mine, sending a searing line of fire right through me. He caught my bottom lip between his, opening his mouth a little and nipping at it with his teeth. Then his mouth was crushed against mine again, his tongue running along my lips. I groaned and grasped his hips, trying to pull him closer. He brought his other leg up, straddling my thighs and kneeling above me. I pulled back a little to open my mouth and say something, but his lips were sealing over mine again before I could form a syllable. Excitable thing, isn't he? My next thought dissolved rapidly as his tongue plunged into my mouth, stroking mine. I gave up with the idea of speaking and thrust my hands into his unruly hair, trying to eat him from the mouth down.  
  
Heero finally pulled away from my mouth, attacking the skin exposed by the collar of my shirt. He licked his way across my collarbone, then worked backwards, nipping and sucking at my skin.  
  
"Heero," I growled, panting. "Let me up."  
  
"Why?" he said, with his lips still pressed against the hollow of my throat. Before I could answer, his tongue was forcing its way past my lips, drawing another moan from me. I twined my tongue with his, pushing forward to dip deep into his mouth. I ran my tongue over his teeth, pulled back to run it over his lips and then plunged back inside the wet heat, stroking the inside of his mouth.  
  
Heero pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he licked his lips. My hands dropped to his waist. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, and I felt him rub the pad of his thumb over my half-parted lips.  
  
Forget standing up now, my legs were trembling underneath him. "That's one hell of a way to say hello, Heero." My voice was breathy.  
  
He quirked his lips at me. "Hai. Is that a complaint?"  
  
"Hell no," I whispered, swallowing hard. "You should say hello more often."  
  
Heero laughed, deep and seductive. My slowing heart rate immediately sped right up again.  
  
"So, Mr. Heero Yuy of the Great Stone House," I said, shifting my legs under him so that my thighs pressed against his ass. "What do you have planned for tonight?"  
  
His hands slipped under my shirt, fingers wrapping around my sides. His thumbs moved in little circles over my skin, slowly creeping upwards. "End game," he said, sliding back over my legs and pulling me to my feet.  
  
I knitted my forehead in confusion. End game? The hell . . .? He dipped his head again, kissing the side of my mouth, then making a wet trail up my jawbone. He pushed his hands in my coat, bringing the light material down off my shoulders. His breath tickled my earlobe.  
  
"I want," he whispered in my ear, "something more than the game . . . ."  
  
My coat fell to the floor, forgotten. I turned my head, bringing my lips brushing past his. "More, Heero?" I said, wrapping my arms around him and melding my body to his. I felt him hot and heavy through our clothing. I pressed my leg between his, nudging his thighs apart. I rubbed myself against him, rewarded with a strangled groan. Heero's hands dropped down, clutching my hips and then lower, gripping my ass and pressing us tightly together. He buried his head in the crook of my neck, biting. Rocking his hips against me, the electric heat of his cock pressing into me tearing small, nonsense sounds from my mouth.  
  
"Oooh, Jesus, Heero, stop. Stop . . . ." I put my hands on his shoulders; his skin was fevered and smooth under my fingers. Pushing him away took every ounce of strength I had left in me. Even then, I only got about an inch between us.  
  
His eyes went dark, and he growled, "Duo," under his breath.  
  
I put my finger over his lips, and his tongue darted out to lick it. I smiled at him, a little twist of my lips. "Shush," I said, tracing his lips with my finger. I ran my other hand down his back, ghosting over his ass and firmly closing my hand over the front of his pants. His breath hissed out, and I squeezed gently. I watched his eyelids slide lower as I worked his cock through the cloth.  
  
I pushed him back, one hand on his chest and the other teasing him with first light pressure, then more. His foot bumped against the stair leading up to the bed. He stepped up, and I followed him. When the backs of his legs hit the bed, I crushed my mouth and body to his, my hand still trapped between us. I pressed harder, forcing a whimper from his throat.  
  
I broke away and pushed him down on the bed, resisting when he tried to pull me down with him. He fell back, propping himself up on his elbows, his feet still touching the floor. And he watched me.  
  
Backing up a few steps, just out of his reach, I slowly unbuttoned my shirt. I slipped it off my shoulders, leaving it hooked around my elbows. The light material ghosted around me with my movements. I ran my hand softly across my chest and down my stomach, toying with the ties on my pants.  
  
"Your hair," Heero said, his eyes riveted on me.  
  
"No," I said, shaking my head enough to cause my braid to slip forward over my shoulder.  
  
"Please." His voice was low, husky.  
  
"No," I repeated, softer this time. If he wanted my hair down that bad, I'd make him wait. No, that's not very nice of me. Odd. Where did you get the idea that I was nice?  
  
I undid the ties, pushing them down and loosening my pants. I watched his hand twitch on the blue bedspread, toward his groin. I turned sideways to him then, bending down and unlacing my boots. I could feel his eyes burning into me. I ran my hands down my leg, and slipped my fingers just inside the top of my boot. When I slid my foot out, my sock stayed behind. I did the same with the other, finally straightening back up. Heero had sat up on the edge of the bed. He crooked a finger at me, and I went to him and stood between his spread legs.  
  
He drew me close, licking and nipping at my stomach. His hands kneaded my ass as he kissed his way down, past my bellybutton as far as the pants would let him. Then he dipped his hands into my pants, pushing them down. His fingers played across the cheeks, running over the cleft. I trembled when his hot breath brushed over my cock; then hissed when his tongue darted out and licked the tip. I turned my head away, my hand flying to my mouth. I bit down on the side of it, trying to keep from loosing it right then and there.  
  
Heero pressed his face in my navel, then stood up, agonizingly slow, and keeping his body pressed against mine. My head fell back and I clenched my eyes shut when his naked skin came in contact with my erection; the harsh friction as he stood walking the fine line between pleasure and pain. His hand wormed its way between us, and his long fingers wrapped around my throbbing cock. I let out a choked cry, my own fingers digging into his sides. "If you want more," I managed to say from between clenched teeth, "you had better stop that." I rocked my hips toward him, feeling his hand slide over my cock. Ignoring my own words, I sped up, my mouth open and my breath coming in small gasps. Sometimes your own advice is the hardest to take, wouldn't you say?  
  
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you want to look at it, Heero decided to listen to me. He removed his hand from between us, stilling my body. I made a small sound in my throat, something very much like a whimper.  
  
I clung to him, resting my forehead against his, breathing deeply. And if Heero wanted something more, he needed to get out of those damn pants of his. I reached between us, tugging on the cord looped around his waist. Then I started on the few buttons. His own hands weren't idle. He lightly trailed his fingers over the cheeks of my ass again. I drew in a shuddering breath, trying to concentrate on those pesky little buttons that for some reason kept evading my fingers. Heero seemed just a little too amused at the fact that he could make me fumble with the buttons. Then he got the idea that I was taking too long. His fingers pressed into the base of my spine, then slid lower, spreading me apart and teasing my entrance. I grit my teeth, torn between thrusting forward into him or back onto his fingers. I felt the tip of his finger dip just inside me, and made a small sound halfway between a whimper and a grunt. The hell with buttons; I ripped his pants open. I heard a little pop. Wonder how far that button flew.  
  
Heero chuckled. I dipped my hands down the front of his pants, brushing past his erection and making his chuckle dissolve into a moan. Pushing his pants down a little, I freed his cock. I looked down, then up, meeting his eyes. The urge to lick my lips was very tempting at that point. I kissed him, shoving my tongue past his lips. I saw his eyes widen, then drift to half-mast. I pulled back a little, keeping our lips touching, and grinned. His eyes flew open when I pushed him backwards. He hit the bed with a sharp explosion of his breath. I tugged his pants off the rest of the way, then slid onto the bed after him, kicking off my own pants.  
  
I crawled over him, kissing whatever patch of his skin was closest to my face. He inched upwards until he lay in the center of the bed. I hovered over him, my hands planted firmly on either side of his head.  
  
"Do you want me?" I asked, letting the bottom half of my body drop. I ground myself into him, breathing heavily.  
  
He arched his back, digging his head into the bed and baring his neck. That was too good an invitation to pass up. I closed my lips over the big pulse in his throat, nipping at the skin and then laving it with my tongue.  
  
"Yes . . . ." he groaned, clenching his eyes shut.  
  
"What do you want, Heero?" I kissed my way across his collarbone.  
  
He opened his mouth, taking deep breaths. "You."  
  
Heero had a one track mind. Amazingly enough, I was pretty sure what he wanted. I knew damn well what I did. But I wanted him to ask for it. Sadistic? Me? Not at all.  
  
"Tell me what you want."  
  
His hands were tracing the muscles of my back. One of his hands wrapped itself around my braid, running down the length of it. "Please," he said, lips barely moving.  
  
"Tell me," I lifted my head and kissed his lips, "what you want."  
  
"Inside, I want to be inside you," his last words trailed off into a sharp cry when I thrust myself hard against him. He broke the band of my braid, raking his hands through my hair. It fell around us, the lighting in the room making it shimmer in reds and golds.  
  
I rolled over, dragging him with me. I spread my legs, bending them at the knee, and he settled between them. My hair flowed across the bedspread.   
  
"Then take what you want, Heero," I told him.  
  
He said something that sounded like 'yes', kissing me roughly. His hand dived under the mound of pillows, searching. Don't ask me how he managed to find anything under there, but he did. Cool, slick fingers danced along the cleft of my ass, teasing. I growled at him. Heero took the hint and slid a finger inside, then quickly slid in a second. He turned his hand, curling his fingers and finding my prostate. I bit down hard on my lip, feeling pleasure rip through me. Heero had me writhing under him in seconds. He moved his fingers in and out of me slowly, sometimes curving them to brush my spot and sometimes not.  
  
That was enough of that. Teasing me at this point in time was sadistic. Yes, I am a hypocrite. No, I don't really care that I am. Fair is fair, as long as its more fair to me.  
  
"Heero," I gasped his name, since he chose that moment to hit my prostate, "stop teasing me."  
  
His lips quirked in that little smile that I knew meant he was enjoying my squirming. "Why should I do that?"  
  
"Because," I answered, pushing the words out between gasps, "I want . . . you . . . to fuck me. Now."  
  
Heero slammed his fingers into me, hitting my spot in several rapid strokes. "Now?"  
  
I dug my fingers into his arms so hard that my nails must have broken his skin. "Dammit, yes! Now!"  
  
He moved so quickly that I only had the barest flash of emptiness before he slid his cock inside me. I shouted, hoarsely, and arced up off the bed. He caught my hips, holding me up. Wrapping my legs around him, I held him there, little sounds falling from my lips. Hard and so hot. He filled me completely. Little white spots danced through my vision.  
  
I twisted my hands into the bedspread, clawing at it. "Move, Heero."  
  
And he did. Sweet Jesus, did he move. He made a few small thrusts, then pulled back, almost emptying me. Snapping his hips forward, he filled me again. It felt like more than before. My eyes flashed wide as he did it again and again. I tossed my head back, moaning his name. His name wasn't the only thing I said, but I wouldn't be able to tell you what else if my life depended on it. Or his. Maybe the world, for that matter.  
  
He kept varying his strokes, pushing himself in and out of my body. I looked down, watching his skin glisten. His muscles bunched and relaxed, straining. Looking back up, I saw him watching as he slid in and out of my body. He raised his eyes to mine. I watched everything dissolve in his eyes, except for the burning passion and need.  
  
His pace increased, slamming into me harder and harder. He hit my prostate with every thrust, wrenching a mewling sound from my throat. One cry melded into the next and soon I was reduced to crying out in one, long continuous keening wail. Heero's words fell over me, making the burning in my stomach coil tighter and tighter. I braced my hands on the headboard of the bed, pushing down to meet his thrusts.  
  
He plunged deeper, shifting the angle of my hips a little. I saw little tremors run under his skin. Then he stiffened, throwing his head back. I clenched my body around him as he thrust into me a last few times. Then I felt him come inside me, spilling hotly over my prostate. He wrapped his hand around my cock at the same time, and he didn't even get a chance to pump me before my body snapped taught and I came. My orgasm seemed to last forever; wave after wave of pure pleasure darkening my vision. Finally, I slumped back onto the bed, and Heero fell over me with a long, low groan. My lower body was still spasming with him still inside me. We lay there, gasping for lost breath.  
  
Several breathless minutes later, he pulled out. The feeling of him emptying me was almost as incredible as him filling me. He picked me up off the bed, crushing me against him. He ravaged my mouth, bruising my already tender lips. Then he set me on my feet on the floor, and I leaned heavily on him for support. I felt his come trail down my thighs slowly. Heero stripped the bedspread off, using a corner to wipe most of the mess off of the two of us. Real sex, real good sex, is like that. Hot, sweaty, and really fucking messy. I almost grinned, I felt that euphoric. I settled for a little smile as he brushed the blanket over my legs, finally rolling it up and tossing it into a corner. Picking me up again, he tore down the rest of the sheets, then crawled onto the bed. He wrapped his legs around mine, burying his head into my chest. I rested my chin on top of his head, curling as close to him as I could without crawling into his skin. I drifted off, the last sensation I remember was his lips pressed against my throat.  
  
+  
  
Duo watched Heero move throughout the crowd, with them, but not; seemingly separate from the people even while surrounded by them. The bar was different, the time, the date, everything was different. Except Heero. He was still the same, still the man who had intrigued Duo in those weeks before. Duo sat at the little table, perched on a stool. Heero made his way towards him, a glass in each hand. He moved sinuously, all energy and barely contained power. Duo felt a thrill of excitement pass through him. He had tasted that energy; grown addicted to it.  
  
Heero was definitely something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue: Guess I should get back to Demons now . . . .  
> Quatre: So . . . Duo was the one at the beginning?  
> Trowa: It appears that way.  
> Quatre: *turning to Duo* Does that make sense?  
> Blue: Of course it does!  
> Duo: Yes. Shush, Quat. Let her get back to the Demons fic.  
> Quatre: It does?  
> Blue: *grinning viciously* Heero was just a little more than Duo had expected.  
> Duo: No kidding.  
> Heero: *looking smug*  
> Wufei: *rolls eyes*  
> Blue: *waving to Dacia* So? Did you like it? Did I do good?  
> Duo: *pushing Blue back to the computer* Yes, she did, and yes, you did. Now, write!


End file.
